GTA: The American Crime
by James Senior
Summary: Salvatore Leone killed the wrong boy's father. Now it's time for revenge!
1. Prologue

**Liberty City**

**2002**

"You better start talking cocksucker. How long you been in the mafia?"

Same question, different precinct. It was always the same. The cops never changed no matter what city you were in. They always wanted to know the unknowable. They always wanted to ask the questions that couldn't be answered. The who, the what, the where and the how. And you know what, none of it mattered. No matter how much they leaned on me or whatever deal they dangled in front of my face, I gave them nothing because they had nothing. No witnesses and no probable cause. None that would stand up in court anyway.

I was used to this, especially in Liberty City. They treated me like a petty thug with their half-witted remarks and their coffee that tasted like shit. I was no longer Carlo Ralieri. When you stepped into this room, you became nothing. Nada. Zilch. You may as well have been something that they scraped off of their shoes. I mean sure, you might think your wife is bad but these guys? These guys'll bust your balls all day for a living. I'm telling you, every cop in America must have asshole printed on their résumé or something. They all think they're the good guys in a country going to hell. But who were they kidding? If cops weren't cops, they'd be criminals. I mean at least we're the ones who are up front about it. They just use their badge as a weapon. You know why? Because they're pissed off. They're pissed off that they have to spend their days hunting crooks that live better than themselves. They're pissed off that we can get whatever we want, whenever we want it while they gotta stand in line. They're pissed off that a third of their wage goes back to the government. And they're really pissed off that when it all boils down to it, they were the ones who were nothing. They were the ones who were nada. They were zilch. While we dined in fine restaurants, they ate at Burger Shot. While we drove sports cars, they drove an Idaho with the backend missing. How could they even dream that we were nothing? They wasted away what dignity they had left for the sake of a medical and a pension. And believe me, you'd get a better pension working at Cluckin' Bell.

"You guys," I replied, grabbing a packet of cigarettes from my suit pocket and reaching around for a lighter. "You've been watching too many movies."

"Oh yeah?" asked the first cop, exchanging a disappointed glance with his partner. They were pacing the room like vultures, staring me down like I was something dirty. They were waiting, biding their time. Waiting for me to slip up. One wrong word on tape and they could put me away for life.

"Yeah," I said back, my tone mocking them in the way adults speak to children. "Everybody knows there is no Mafia. It was just some bullshit dreamed up by the media to sell papers. I mean America preaches all that 'land of the free' shit but that's all it is. Shit. This country's got a big fucking problem with foreigners they really do. I mean first it was the blacks and now you're targeting the Italians. I gotta say I'm disgraced. You two should be ashamed of yourselves you really should."

"You quite done?"

They knew. I could hear it in his voice. They knew I was buying time.

"I mean," I continued. "What has the world come to when hard working citizens like myself can't get through a day without an interrogation? It's always the same with you guys. You wanna know where I've been. What I've been doing. Who I've been talking to. Do I take sugar in my coffee or do I look at my shit before I flush the toilet. Frankly I'm sick of it. I pay my taxes and for what?"

"You done?" the cop repeated.

"I'll bet your wife chose that tie, am I right?"

Too far. I'd dealt with the puppy. Now I was going to have to contend with the wolf. Detective Manning. You never knew what was going through that crazy fucks mind unless he was screaming it in your face. The guy pretty much bled stars and stripes. He figured my kind was the problem with America today. Like I was the reason this country was going down the shitter.

"I don't think you quite understand the severity of this situation," exploded Manning's voice from across the room. His eyes tore like fire as he focused on me like I was prey. "We got you with your fucking pants down. You listening to me? You're up shit creek without a god damned paddle. If you don't start talking then I'm gonna be so far up your ass that you're gonna be eating for two, you hear me?"

"Up shit creek without a paddle," I repeated, howling with laughter. "I love that. They teach you to talk like that at the academy?"

"We're getting nowhere," said the first cop as he shook his head yawning. He was staring at the clock, defeated. "This is a waste of time. Let's just charge him."

Manning took a seat across from me. He never even blinked as he said, "no. I don't think it is. I think he's afraid. Am I right, Carlo? Are you afraid?"

Sure. I was afraid. To be perfectly honest I was shitting myself. And he could probably see it in my eyes. He could probably hear my foot bouncing against the floor like I was playing the drums. Life in prison isn't any kind of life at all. This one man could destroy everything I'd worked for. The lives I'd ruined with my thirst for money and power, all gone to shit. People I've roughed up. People I've betrayed. People I've murdered. All of it meant nothing if I went to jail. So yeah, I was afraid alright. But then again, why? They still had nothing. No witnesses anyway. People in Liberty City knew better than that. If you stay out of other people's business then you stay alive. But that's when things turned sour. I saw the file in his hand before he even had chance to lift it. It was over now. A file meant they had something. A file meant the difference between walking and doing twenty-five years to life.

"I wanna speak to my lawyer," I blurted out.

"Your lawyer," Manning repeated, smiling toward his partner. "Yeah we called him. He's all backed up."

I began to light my cigarette. "Well then I want my phone call."

"You can stick your phone call up your ass," demanded the other cop impatiently.

"Hey, I got my rights."

Before I could even inhale the smoke, the cigarette was knocked from my hand, Manning leaning in uncomfortably close as he said to me in an eerily calm manner, "you ain't got nothing. You understand me? You ain't got shit until you start talking. Now we got four bodies on the fucking slab out there. You were caught at the murder scene with a gun that you'd recently fired. And you seem to think this is all some sort of joke but let me tell you something. We ain't laughing dickhead. You really think that we got you in here because we don't know that you killed someone tonight?"

"If you seem to know so much then why don't you charge me asshole?"

"I'll charge you when I'm ready," Manning told me, sitting back down in his seat. "And believe me, you will be charged and you will get the death sentence. Unless of course, you're willing to cut a deal?"

"What kind of deal?"

"It's the best deal someone in your shoes can hope for, believe me. We can have your sentence lowered to life in prison. All you have to do is stand up in court and point the finger at everyone you've ever worked with and every cop whose ever taken a bribe."

I wasn't smiling anymore. "I ain't no fucking rat."

"Yes you are," Manning said. "Rats spread disease and infection and that's what you are. An infection. I've watched cocksuckers like you bleed this city dry for years. Well now I want you all behind bars where you belong. You think you're a funny guy but you ain't going to feel so funny in the gas chamber. I get your kind in here all hours of the day. They sit there, where you're sitting right now and they just love to tell jokes. Insult the way I dress, the way I talk. It's all bullshit of course. They're just hiding their guilt and their insecurities."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"Yeah," he said. "You are. You probably think you're been real smart while you're at it too, but you ain't." He opens the file but there's a sharp knock at the door. It opens up, the distant sound of telephones and conversation flooding my ears. A skinny female who must have been in her late forties beckoned for Manning to speak with her. "Think over what I said, Carlo. You're only to get one chance."

He left the room, leaving me with his partner. I removed another cigarette and lit it. The whole time I'm staring at the floor, my heart beating so hard I thought it might break open my chest. I'm sitting there with that grim look across my face. I've got this ocean of sweat across my forehead. I'm using every ounce of control I've got not to vomit all over the floor. I'm itching all over. I'm ready to explode. And then the door opens. Manning walks back in, laughing, victorious.

"Carlo Ralieri," he says. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney."

"What the fuck is this?" I screamed.

"If you cannot afford an attorney," he continued. "One will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

The smug bastard was loving it. His partner had me in cuffs and I'm struggling not to be dragged away. I had to know. I just had to. "What the fuck is going on?"

"You're friend confessed. He gave us everything. Dates, addresses, names. Everything. He's going to stand up in court and put the entire five families away for life. In other words," he said winking. "Kansas is bye-bye dickhead."

Whoa. Freeze frame a second. He confessed? I couldn't believe it. My best friend. The one guy I trusted with my life. I'm in here protecting our thing and he's in there singing a god damned chorus. How the fuck could this happen? What kind of deal could they have dangled in front of his face that would make him turn his back on me? I don't care if they promised him thirty virgins and a cottage in the fucking country. You don't rat on your friends. It's like an unwritten rule. You just don't do it.

I wanted to murder him, to beat him senseless, to strangle the last breath out of his body. I'd kill every cop in this building just to get to him. I couldn't go back to jail. I just couldn't. Do you know what they do to you in there? Fuck that and fuck him. I used to be the biggest name in this town. I had people who'd die to protect me. Now? Now it was just me, handcuffed and alone, except for the two cops whose day I'd just made. How did it get to this? I suppose, looking back, it all started with my dad. It was always about my dad, even as a kid. I guess I'd better start at the beginning.


	2. Chapter One

I guess it all started when I was eighteen. I'd spent the best part of my childhood growing up in Bohan. It wasn't always the safest place to go out at night but I was happy. Heck, I'd give anything to have those days back if I could. I was a happy kid with a bright future ahead of me. I was top of my class in most subjects. I took the garbage out for my mom and I had a steady girlfriend. As far as I was concerned, life was perfect. But that was the problem. It's when you're happiest the most that life fucks you in the ass and makes you its bitch. And boy, was I getting fucked.

Most kids that I'd known at school would love to brag about their dads. I'm telling you, that's all they'd talk about. They'd boast about all the money they earned, the jobs they did, stuff like that. But that's one thing I could never do. Brag about my dad. You see, my dad was an asshole. A degenerate gambler. A bottom of the barrel loser who loved to drink. And when he drank, he became a mean son of a bitch. He was hot tempered and would beat my mother just for burning the dinner. One time he beat her so bad that she couldn't see out of one eye for a whole month. The neighbours did nothing. They couldn't care less. It just wasn't proper in them days. Shit like that was between a man and his wife. And it only got worse. By the time I was fifteen, my dad was out of control. If there were nine bets on, he'd bet them all. And when he lost, which he usually always did, he'd drink six or seven beers with his friends and then half a bottle of whisky for desert when he got home. That's pretty much all he did and there was nothing my mother could do to stop him. I mean, my father was a big guy. He had fists like sledge hammers. He broke a guy's jaw once just for cutting him off at intersection. That was the type of man he was. Nice one minute and then a complete fucking psycho the next.

Don't get me wrong, my mother was no saint. She gave as good as she got, believe me. For every vase he broke, she'd break two. For every door he'd slam, she'd throw something through a window. She always seemed to be angry about something. Sometimes it was cause we didn't have a lot of money. Other times it was cause she'd find lipstick on my dad's clothes. And the rest of the time, she was angry that my dad didn't spend enough time with me and my brother. Which was partly true. I mean, the guy was out the house more times than he was in. Sometimes, I didn't even blame him.

The problems didn't end there though. When you're a degenerate gambler like my dad, you need money all the time. And when you've borrowed from every friend, bookie and shark in the city, who else can you turn to? The bank? Don't make me laugh. A job? Not in this lifetime. He turned to the only people he could. The only people who would lend money no matter what your credit rating, no matter what your skin colour or background. He turned to the mob. Or Cosa Nostra, as they like to call themselves. These weren't your average loan sharks, believe me. These guys ran the city. Murder, extortion, racketeering. Heck, it was all just business to them. The only mob family in our area were the Leone's. They were run by Salvatore Leone, one of the most feared men in Liberty City. You wouldn't think so, to look at him. He was in his sixties but don't let that fool you. He'd just as soon kill you as look at you. His whole crew were like that. Every day in the papers there was a new story and every day nobody did shit. It was this big secret society that everybody tried to ignore. They weren't like you saw in the movies. They didn't walk around in pin stripe suits or go to the store with a gun in their hand. I mean, you could live across the street from a Leone gangster your whole life and you wouldn't even know it. But my dad knew it. He knew one of our neighbours was an associate of theirs. So what does the stupid son of a bitch do? He borrows money from them. And when he can't pay them back? He borrows even more. Now he's got a problem. The mob don't exactly like been paid in instalments. So here's how it works. One day they'll send over a few guys who'll break something you like, just to show they mean business. A car window or something like that. If you still don't pay, they'll send over a few guys to break something on you. An arm or a rib. Never a leg. A broken leg might mean they never get to see their money. If by this time you're still stupid enough not to pay them, they'll pop two in the back of your head. Sure, they never got their money back but it'll make anyone think twice about not paying them in the future.

So my dad, selfish prick that he is, gets us in his car and he just drives. I lost everything. My girlfriend, my friends at school, my grades. They were all gone just like that. Now we had to live in fear, on the run from the most dangerous organization in the country. I hated him. He'd ruined my life. He'd ruined me. Every day I wished he'd just go to hell, but the truth was, I was already living there. Vice City. It's a small city down in Florida and it was horrible. A real fantasy land for nine to fivers whose only future was feeding ducks in the park. It was like Liberty City but without a pulse. The first day we got there, dinner was a hot dog served without bread. Kill me now.

**1996**

**Vice City, Florida**

For any other kid in our area, it was just a normal Friday morning. Get up for school, eat your breakfast, kiss your mother goodbye and then your off for a day of flag worshipping or whatever other bullshit they make you do at school. But for me and my brother, things were a little different. You see, this was an important day for us. A day we'd planned for weeks. Our family didn't exactly have a lot of money. Sure, my dad had stopped gambling left, right and centre but he only worked in construction and the pay sucked, it really did. I'm surprised my dad could ever afford the house that we lived in. Granted we didn't live in the nicest of areas but the neighbourhood was mostly Italian and my dad loved the place just for that reason. He always believed that people should stick with their own kind and would try and cement the idea into my head that the Italians were the best thing to ever happen to America. I'm serious; he had so many good things to say about Italy you'd think he was actually born there.

Anyway, where was I? I keep losing my train of thought. Oh yeah, right. The plan. Well rather than bore you with the details, I'm gonna cut right to the chase. Me and my kid brother were gonna rob a bank. Pretty cool, huh? Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking we were just dumb kids with an even dumber plan. But you're wrong. I'd thought this thing through and I'd gone over it a million times. I even knew who was working the tills that morning and the local police response time to a 10-43. I wasn't no schmuck like those niggers who risk twenty five years to life for a measly sixty bucks. When I saw my future it didn't have me serving Heart Stopper's at Burger Shot or pouring drinks in some shitty bar. I was an eighteen year old who was actually going somewhere. Cause while the kids at my school saw themselves as fire fighters or cops, I saw myself with money and power. And of course women. Plenty of women. The only way to get these things where I grew up was to become a criminal. That was the only answer if you wanted to get ahead. How else can a person survive in this day and age? Day jobs? Please. The working class are no different than bums. They struggle to make ends meet and work themselves dizzy just to put food on the table. Fuck that. I'd rather be dead.

So anyway, that was the plan. Me, my brother and a few of my friends were gonna walk into the Vice City Bank and walk back out again with more money than we knew what to do with. There was just one slight problem with my amazing plan. My parents. The day didn't exactly start off the way I'd liked. First of all, my father lost his keys. He was always losing his keys. He had a shitty memory which was probably due to all the booze he drank. So, from the moment I woke up it was clear that he was pissed off. I did my best to avoid him but when I got to the kitchen I was starting to wish I hadn't. My mother ran at me before I even had a chance to sit and boy was she not happy. She's bitching at me about this and that and screaming, "that's coming out of your allowance" like I actually gave a fuck. What the hell am I supposed to spend one dollar a week on anyway? A gallon of milk? As soon as I got the money from the heist I'd be gone.

By the time my brother came downstairs it was 8:03. Finally. Time to catch the bus. But that's when my parents started yelling at each other. And every time we go to leave, my mother screams at me and my brother to sit back down which gave me a bit of a dilemma. You see, I came up with the whole heist idea. It was my plan from the start. If I don't show up on time then the other guys'll probably think I chickened out and then go to class. Which cannot happen. This heist should have been done yesterday and I wasn't about to wait until tomorrow. No way. I didn't wanna live in that house a minute longer. What was I supposed to do? Run? Maybe I should have but instead we waited. And waited and waited. They went on for something like a half hour back and forth. It was horrible. I kept watching the clock and the more I did the more I began to panic. 8:15... 8:25... Fucking 8:35. And then it happened. My dad caved. He was gonna take us to school which meant heaven forbid he was actually gonna have to spend a little time with us. My heart bleeds for the guy, it really does.

I felt like I was gonna vomit. We were actually gonna rob a bank. That's a fucking scary thought, I can tell you. My brother Robert wasn't exactly taking it well neither. We didn't say two words the whole way to school. The rest of the day seemed like it was years away. When you're stood in a huddle outside a cafeteria talking about how it's gonna go down, it all seems so easy but now I was starting to have my doubts. What if when I walked into the bank I just collapsed or worse yet what if the entire building was surrounded by cops. There wasn't exactly a how-to guide on this sort of thing that I could look to for tips and I started to wonder how John Dillinger felt the first time he robbed a bank. When we finally pulled up outside the school I almost vomited right there in the car. My brother got out first. He didn't even say goodbye. He hated my dad even more than I did. But before I could get out the car my dad's grabbing my arm and I just sat there expecting nothing more than a shit load of abuse. So what came next was a hell of a surprise I can tell you. He actually showed me concern.

"Hey," my dad said, letting go of my arm, the two of us sharing eye contact for the first time in days. "You getting bullied or something? Is it that kid from down our street again? Dobson?"

"No dad," I told him. "He don't even go to our school no more. I ain't getting bullied or nothing, alright? Everything's fine. I mean it."

"Cause you know if he is, I can go talk to his father. Straighten him out."

"Everything's fine. I swear."

I knew from the way he's gazing into eyes that he didn't believe me, but then he says, "Alright then. I'll be here at four. Remember to wait around the corner. You know how much I hate traffic."

Making my way off the back seat I shut the door behind me. I remember standing there, watching as his car disappeared around a corner. What can I say, I was shocked. I kept thinking to myself, did that just happen? Had my father actually given a damn about my wellbeing for the first time in years? It didn't matter. He was still a loser working minimum wage. There were better jobs out there and he hadn't even tried. But then again, what kind of job would he do? I couldn't imagine him as a cab driver or a cop. And anyway, if he was a cop, he'd have to wear a uniform and he'd always said that uniforms owned you, you never owned it. Although, he already had a gun, that much I was sure of. Me and my brother were looking for Christmas presents one year and we stumbled across an M1911 pistol. I remember this clearly, almost like it was yesterday. Mostly because my father had beat us so bad that for weeks we'd had to hover over the toilet seat just to take a dump.

"Bout fucking time you got here. What? You forget the way?"

I turned around and there's my friend, Adam, walking down the school steps, arms outstretched, face like a gorilla. He wasn't very tall for his age but he made up for that fact with brawn and a lot of kids feared him at school because of it. Adam Pacelli. The flaw in my beautiful plan. The guy had a real attitude, I can tell you. He grew up in Broker and he loved to remind us of that fact every day. He had these farfetched stories about fights he got into and would say, "It's the most dangerous place on Earth. My mother had a gun on her just to do her groceries". His dad was a cop and the way Adam described him, you'd think he was a US Marine or something. He told us that his dad got transferred here to reduce crime cause he was the only guy who could handle the job but the way I heard it, his dad got a little trigger happy with some spooks.

"We got a problem," my brother Robert called to me. "A big fucking problem."

"I was starting to think you two weren't gonna show," Adam said. "You scared the shit out of me."

I dropped my backpack and removed a half empty packet of cigarettes. "We ran into an issue. It's no big deal, okay?" Then I noticed something I didn't like. I could see Adam and Robert. Plus I could see John, my other friend if you wanna call him that. But somebody was missing. "Where's Larry?"

"That's the problem," Robert answered.

This was bad. But before I even had a chance to think, Adam's screaming, "That fat fuck. I knew he was gonna bail. What'd I say last night? Didn't I say we should cut him loose? This is fucking our shit up big time. Without him were screwed. Okay? Screwed."

Whilst Adam's rant was the last thing that I needed right now, it was without a doubt true. Larry was the most important person in my plan. Without him, we didn't have a gun. Without a gun, we didn't have a leg to stand on. The Vice City Bank had a guard, sometimes two. Larry's absence was anything but good. And then it happened. The school bell.

"Shit," Robert said, coming down the steps to join us. "What are we gonna do? Go to class?"

"Not in this lifetime," I replied, trying to think. "We're gonna have to wait."

"I'm not waiting outside the school," Robert told me like a pussy. "I get caught out of class and that's it for me. No meeting with the principal. No letter home. I get chucked out. Do you understand what would happen to me if dad found out I was chucked out?"

"Okay, okay. Quit the melodrama for Christ's sake. We'll stand over by the football field. If butter butt shows up we should be able to see him from behind that fence. Now be quiet a sec. I need time to think."

Quiet wasn't exactly a word in Adam's vocabulary.

"Three weeks we planned this," Adam was yelling as we crossed the street. "Three fucking weeks. And what does he do? He bails on us. Now all we got are ski masks, two knives and a fucking ballpoint pen that brains here," he said as he pointed towards John and then continued, "thought would look dangerous. This is the biggest fuck-up in the history of fuck-up's. I mean were screwed. We may as well just go to class and pay allegiance to the flag cause I'm shit out of ideas, okay?"

"Just relax alright." A few people in a nearby parking lot were looking in our direction and I didn't like it one bit. "Shut up a second."

"Relax? How can you be so calm about all this? Yesterday we had the greatest plan since Columbus decided to take a boat ride. Today were skipping class to stand behind a fence. I mean this is fucked. Really fucked."

Once we were all hidden from view, I finally lit my cigarette, taking a better look at my surroundings. The fence ran the whole length of the football field and I was sure we'd see Larry coming from a mile away. Thinking to myself as I smoked the most glorious cigarette of the day, a realization struck home. What if Larry had been caught and he had told his parents everything? Would they call the VCPD? Could the cops be on their way to arrest us all, right now?

"What're we gonna do?" Robert asked. "We can't just stand here all day."

"I like it here," John said with that grin of his. "It reminds me of the fence at my house. Except ours is white. My dad didn't like fences but when he left, my mom got a big one. She let me paint it. It was fun. You've got a fence, haven't you Adam?"

John Winter. Poor John. What a case. John was retarded. And I don't mean he acted like an idiot. I mean he was actually retarded. There wasn't exactly a lot of help for it back in them days. He got different homework to the rest of us and during gym class he'd pretty much just sit there with that crazy grin across his face. But still, most of the time he was just like any other kid in our class. I don't really remember how it happened but one day after school he just started hanging around with us. Adam didn't like it at first. He said John made us look bad but after a while he came around to the idea. John was one of us from that day. A part of the gang. Sure, some of the kids still mocked him every once in a while but once we got through with em', they wouldn't even blink in his direction.

"Quiet," I said, wishing they'd all just sit down so I could forget them, at least for a few minutes. "I need time to think."

"The time for thinking is over," Adam cried. "The time for thinking ended with that school bell. I say we just do this thing right now. Fuck Larry. It means more money for us anyway."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let me see if I'm hearing you right. You wanna walk into a bank at ten in the morning with two knives. Is that what you're saying?"

"Don't forget the ballpoint pen," John added.

"Fuck the ballpoint pen," I told him in frustration. "What are you gonna do? Draw them a picture? This plan sucks. I say we just wait here to see if he shows up. If he does, he does. If he doesn't, then we call the whole thing off."

"After three weeks?" asked Adam. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Yes, after three weeks. I ain't going to jail. Do you know what they do to you in there? To hell with that. I think I'd rather go to class."

A few moments passed in silence. It was starting to look like Adam had nothing to say to this until he blurted out, "I can't believe what I'm hearing. This whole thing was your idea. Don't you forget that. I don't even need the money as much as you guys. I get fifteen dollars a week allowance."

"And?"

"_And_ I was perfectly happy with my fifteen dollars until you came along."

Is this guy for real?

"Get the fuck out of here," I yelled at him. "We're talking thousands of dollars and you got your head up your ass over fifteen bucks? I can't believe this. I'm working with a bunch of amateurs."

"Sure," Adam sneered at me. "Cause you're a _real_ expert when it comes to robbing banks."

I'd heard enough. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? "You know what. Why don't you just fuck off. Do us all a favour. You've done nothing but bitch and moan for the past three weeks and frankly I'm sick of it. I put this whole thing together. You think it really matters to me whether or not you come along? Even John'll be more use than you with his fucking ballpoint pen."

"Really?" uttered John. He smiled, showing each of us the gaping hole that was once his two front teeth. "Thanks."

"Shut up John," I told him, turning on Adam, fists clenched. The rage that was building up inside me was too much to bear. "If you wanna go, then just go."

"Why don't you make me?"

It happened in an instant. I don't even remember who swung first. All I know is we lunged at each other, brawling like animals, fists flying, shirts ripping. It was a horrible sight. John was hysterical, jumping up and down, screaming for us to stop. Robert was doing everything he could to try and break it up. He's yelling, "come on guys. Were supposed to be friends," as he dives between us, trying his best to create some sort of distance. Then we froze, all of us, each staring at the brightly coloured backpack that had landed on the ground beneath us. There were more sounds. Shoes scraping against wood, heavy breathing and cursing. For a brief second, I half expected the cops to appear, guns raised, badges showing. That was until two chubby hands grabbed the uppermost part of the fence. Nobody said anything. We just waited and watched, disbelief etched across our faces. An overweight kid had just landed on the ground beside us, breathing like it's going out of fashion.

"Hey," he said. "What's going on?"

Almost a half hour late and yet there he was, looking like he just received his first blowjob. Larry Hogan. The fattest kid in school. Kids like Larry, there's two ways they go. Either they get laughs or they get laughed at. Luckily for him, he was a regular comedian. Unlucky for me, he was an irregular moron.

"Hey? Where the fuck have you been?"

"What?" Larry asked. "I got here as fast as I could. I had to wait for my dad to leave the house. Were you two just fighting?"

"You're over twenty minutes late," I told him. "We were about to call the whole thing off. Jesus, am I the only one taking this thing seriously?"

Larry arched his eyebrows. "What's up with you? You look like you're about to have a heart attack or something. I'm here now aren't I? What did you think? You think I'm just gonna take this from my dad's dresser while he's getting ready for work?"

This new information was like a magnet. "You actually got it?"

"Was there ever any doubt? Of course I got it." The fat fuck was loving this. He always loved been centre of attention. He removes a .38 Special from his backpack, raising it in the air like it's some kind of trophy. "Ain't she beautiful?"

"Alright, yeah," Adam agreed, "now can you just stop pointing her at me."

"Don't worry about it," Larry told him. "My dad never keeps his gun loaded."

I froze on the spot. "You brought the bullets through, right?"

"What, am I speaking in tongues? I just said he never keeps it loaded. There are no bullets. What you see is what you got."

"I don't believe what I'm hearing. You brought an unloaded gun to an armed robbery? Do you know how fucking stupid that sounds? We may as well have just brought water pistols and have done with it."

"Don't worry about it," Larry said, unfazed by my cold eyes staring back at him. "When they see this beauty, they're gonna shit their pants. And besides, you never said anything about shooting nobody."

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more stupid," I snapped, "you go and do this." Now I'm pacing up and down, weighing out the pros and cons, lighting myself another cigarette. This wasn't exactly how I'd planned it. I'd underestimated the stupidity of my friends. Something kept telling me to walk away, to go back to school and pretend this never happened. But it wasn't as simple as that. My dad had ruined my life. This was my chance to get it all back. "Alright, look, fuck it. Let's just do it. Right now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just do me a favour, okay? Put the gun away. Don't be a stupid motherfucker, you wanna get us arrested?"

As we made our way to the bank I could tell Robert was itching to say something. He kept opening his mouth, seeing the look on my face and then closing it again. He'd been like this for three weeks now, adding nothing to the plan, just agreeing with everything I said and pointing out what could go wrong. I was starting to regret ever bringing him on board.

"Can I talk to you?" he finally asked.

"Can't it wait?" I said.

"No, it really can't. Look bro, I'm all for getting rich, you know, getting out of town and all that. But there's other ways to do it. We could get jobs-"

"Don't do this to me now. I don't wanna hear that shit. We're doing it, end of story."

In under fifteen minutes, we could see the bank. The streets seemed quiet, a car or two here and a car or two there. Only a few stores were open and those that dared were deserted. The timing was perfect. It had to be now. We stood in this shitty alley, secluded and dark, each passing around ski masks and psyching ourselves up for the task ahead.

"Okay," I said proudly, "we all ready?"

"Let's just do it," Adam answered, taking deep breathes.

"I think my hats upside down," added John.

We each shared a chuckle. It was the first time we'd laughed and it felt good. But it didn't last long. Robert's thrown his ski mask at the ground and he's shaking his head furiously. "Screw this. This is madness. I'm not ready. I'm not ready at all. What if we get caught? I'm really starting to think this is a bad idea. People have gone to hell for less than this."

"Will you stop been such a pussy," Adam told him. "Grow a fucking pair, will you."

"Robert," I said. "Come on. This is just nerves talking. There ain't no chance of us getting caught."

Now he's pacing up and down. I thought he was gonna cry right there and then. "That's easy for you to say," he tells me. "You don't even have a record. They'll throw the book at me. I'm telling you, I got this feeling in my stomach. Something bad is gonna happen. Look. Maybe we haven't got over the plan enough, you know. If we just give it a couple more weeks-"

I couldn't believe it. Twenty feet away from the bank and he's pissing his pants. I swear I'm cursed. "There ain't gonna be no couple more weeks, you understand? We're doing this now."

Then lard ass starts pussying out too. No way John Dillinger had to put up with this shit. "Maybe we should wait until tomorrow," he says. "Go over the plan a few more times. You know, just to be safe. I mean, your brothers got a point. This don't feel right."

"Jesus Christ," I'm screaming. "You guys are gonna kill me before I'm nineteen. We really don't have time for this. We've gone over the plan a million times. We go in, we split up, we cover all sides of the bank. It ain't exactly rocket science. If any of them press an alarm, we put them down."

"Down?" Adam repeats. "What do you mean down? We kill them?"

"No we don't fucking kill them. We just hit em."

"Hit them? Hit them with what exactly?"

"A pillow. What the fuck do you think? Use your imagination." You see what I gotta put up with? It's 9:58 and we're still going over the plan. "It's time. Now come on."

"No," Robert said. "I'm not going."

I kicked the wall in frustration. It might seem a little childish when you think about it but put yourself in my shoes. "You wanna stay here all your life?" I screamed at him. "Is that what you want? To live with those fucked up excuses for parents? Well not me. You hear? Maybe you do but not me. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of watching our dad drink himself to death. I'm tired of our dad beating the living shit out of us but then telling us not to cry too loud cause our mom's worried about what the neighbours will think. And I'm really tired of not having any money. I mean, look at us Robert. Don't you wanna know what it's like to live a normal life?"

"Normal?" He starts advancing on me, disgusted and angry. "You call this normal? You're stood here talking about robbing a bank like it's an everyday thing. There's people in that building right now who you're gonna traumatise the shit out of just so you can lead a normal life. You don't see anything wrong with that?"

"You know of all the people here, you're the last person I'd expect to walk away. My own brother. I guess it ain't true what they say. Blood ain't thicker than water."

"You see. You're not even listening to me. All you care about is yourself. You couldn't give a fuck about me, Adam or Larry and you damned well don't give a fuck about John. Have you actually stopped to consider what'd happen to him if he went to jail?"

Fuck him. "I think it's time you left."

"Don't worry, I'm going." He grabs John by the arm and starts dragging him to his feet. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" John asked, his smile withering in confusion.

"I'm taking you back to school."

"Leave him alone," I shouted. "Let him make up his own mind."

This was madness. The bank was so close. Ten minutes and we'd be counting our money. The thought of getting caught didn't even matter to me. It was worth the risk. When you turn your back on nine to five's and taxes, you gotta be willing to take a few risks.

"I'm going too."

Larry jumps on the band wagon and it tore me a new one. "I suppose you're next," I snarled, turning on Adam who was been a little too quiet for my liking.

"They have got a point. And my mother'd be heartbroken if I went to jail," he said. "But fuck it. I'm still in."

Thank god. I was starting to think I'd have to rob the bank all on my own. "Bro," I whispered, wondering how it had come to this. If I could just convince him, convince them all. "Come on Robert. This is our last chance to get it all back."

"I'm sorry," he replied.

They walked away, leaving me and Adam alone, hidden in shadow like vermin. I wanted to follow them. I wanted to catch them up and start joking around, to tell them they were right and I was wrong. But I was angry. I'm throwing my arms in the air, screaming at the top of my lungs, "Fuck you then. All of you. You think we can't do this? The two if us. Huh? I'm Carlo Ralieri. That names gonna mean something in this town. You all stay here. Me? I'm going to the top. I got the fucking best of the best coming to me." I didn't mean it. I was letting my emotions show and it made me vulnerable. I wanted them to hurt like I was hurting.


	3. Chapter Two

Now I hate to sound cruel but the last person I want to rob a bank with is Adam Pacelli. The guys a nervous wreck. And when he gets nervous, he becomes violent. And when he gets violent, he becomes a complete fucking psycho. Me, my brother, Larry and John were his only friends. Why? Well let's face it. Only two fucked up kids, a fat kid and a retard would want to hang around with a complete psycho. Kids have lost their two front teeth just by looking at him the wrong way and here I am wondering whether I should hand him a knife or an unloaded gun. I'll admit, this day wasn't exactly a can of fucking peaches.

I should have been rich by now. I should have been a on a bus to San Andreas thinking of all the women in their short skirts and bikini's. I should have been buying a blonde girl drinks in Liberty City and praying to god for a blowjob. I should have been in a limo, licking champagne off the breasts of a call-girl. Instead, I'm sat smoking my third cigarette in an hour, hidden away in the shadows of an alley not even fit for a bum. I never would have had this shit if my cousin Ricky was here. Ricky would have robbed that bank in the same time it takes a virgin to masturbate. He'd have walked in there, guns blazing. Shame then that Ricky was serving nine years in a county jail for grand theft auto. Seems a lot don't it? Nine years. But that was Ricky. He always did have the worst luck. He'd been dating this girl that he'd met at work. Crystal, I think her name was. Let me tell you a few things about Crystal. She was a stunner. I'm telling you, every guy at that place had to think of her when they jerked off. Perfect body, perfect smile. She had it all. So anyway, the more time my cousin Ricky spends with her, the more he's falling in love. He starts saving up for a ring. But the more he's saving, the less money he can spend on taking Crystal out. So this gets her to thinking he ain't as interested anymore. Before poor Ricky can even pop the question, she dumps him. And just to rub salt into the wound, the next day she's got a new boyfriend. Can you believe that? One day. Well this screws Ricky up big time. He starts missing work, getting drunk and getting into fights. He's spiralling out of control. And then his mom, my aunt, kicks him out. So now Ricky's wondering around Broker, drunk out his gauge with nowhere to sleep. It's November. The guys freezing. So what does he do? He breaks into a car so he can get out of the cold. The next morning he wakes up on the backseat with two cops beating the shit out of him. Ricky, the stupid fuck, had broken into a police cruiser. Nine years. The judge didn't even blink.

"It ain't too late to call it off," Adam said. "You know, if you wanna?"

I exhaled another cloud of smoke, pacing up and down the alley, making sure to avoid anything that looked remotely like dog shit. My heart had stopped pounding now. I'd been panicking for a moment but I had my senses back. The situation was, there were two of us on a five man job. We had two knives that looked like they'd struggle to penetrate butter and we had a gun that wasn't even loaded. Plus we had a ballpoint pen that our friend, the jolly retard, thought would look dangerous. In years to come, when they talk about the greatest robberies of all time, this would not be one of them.

"Why?" I asked. "Do you?"

"Maybe I do," Adam said. He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the floor. "And then again maybe I don't. All I know is there are only two of us now and we've all done so far is argue and smoke cigarettes. No offence but we gotta start acting professional."

"Professional?" I replied, throwing away my cigarette. "It's a small bank in a small town. Unless you wanna start drilling through the floor I don't see how this job exactly requires professionals."

"I'm just saying, alright?"

"You're just saying? Well don't. I mean Jesus Christ, what is it with you? I'm about to make you rich and you've done is complain. I had to turn my back on my own brother. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

His face contorted as he stopped staring at the floor. "You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about. My brother Henry is in jail. My uncle Raymond is in jail. My cousin Stephen is on trial. Do you know what this would do to my parents if I went to jail?"

"It'd break your mother's heart," I mocked, "yeah, you already told me."

"Listen to mister compassion over here."

I ran at him screaming, "fuck you amateur," my finger pointed at his face. I settled my breathing, counted to ten and then I backed off. "Give me the gun."

"Why?" he asked. "You gonna shoot me now?"

"Don't talk stupid," I said. "The gun ain't loaded, remember?"

He passes me his backpack and I start rummaging around for the butt of a .38 Special. I quickly realize that what I'm reaching into is Pandora's Box. Adam seems to have everything but the kitchen sink hidden away in his bag. Books, candy, gym shorts, pencils, rubbers, an old pair of socks, a box of matches, an eighth of marijuana. But no knives. And worse yet, no gun.

"What the fuck is this?" I shouted, throwing aside some mouldy sandwiches. "Your lunchbox? Where's the gun?"

"It's in there," he replied. "Keep looking."

I emptied the entire contents out. "Unless it's disguised as an issue of Playboy, I can't fucking see it. Now where is the gun?"

"You're joking right?" He grabs the bag and starts checking for himself. "I'm telling you, it was in here. The knives too. They can't have just vanished."

That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks. "Motherfucker. That cock-sucking piece of shit. I don't believe this."

"What?"

"That asshole. That retarded fucking asshole."

"What the fuck are we playing here? Captain May I? What's going on?"

"Larry's still got the gun."

"What do you mean Larry's still got the gun?"

"What I mean," I replied, speaking real slow to make my point, "is that the gun and the knives are still in Larry's faggot rainbow backpack and me and you are stood holding our dicks. Do you understand me now?"

"Oh Jesus Christ," he said. "This is bad."

"Bad? No it was bad ten minutes ago. Now it's in a different fucking league of bad, okay? This day just went from shit to diarrhea. You were right last night. We should have cut that fat prick loose."

I leaned against the brick wall, my head in my hands, desperate for another cigarette. One look at my watch told me it was 10:25. It was almost too late now anyway. Housewives and coffin dodgers would soon flood the centre of town, spending what little money they had on worthless shit that they didn't even need. My mother was one of them. I couldn't be seen. The window of opportunity was closing in on me. This day couldn't get any worse. Take my advice. Never underestimate the stupidity of your friends.

"Well that's it then," Adam announced. "It's over. We can't rob the bank now. All we can do is go back to school. Am I right?"

"We ain't calling it off," I told him. "No way. No fucking way."

"Hey. I wasn't saying I wanted to. The thing is Carlo, you have to understand that the situation that we're in now ain't the same as the situation that we were in ten minutes ago. Two people on a five man job without any kind of weapons ain't my idea of fun, okay? Now you need to pull your head out of the god damned clouds and start thinking clearly."

The cheek of this guy. "You sure changed your tune. An hour ago you were bitching about your fifteen dollars. Now you wanna talk like you're a professional?"

"I'm acting more professional than you. Kicking walls ain't getting us nowhere fast, is it?"

"Okay," I said as I approached him. "You wanna act professional? Tell me your plan. Tell me your big fucking idea that's going to make us rich. Because right now all I'm hearing is a lot of talk and no fucking action."

"There is no plan," he laughed at me. "Can't you get that into that thick skull of yours? You walk into that building without so much as a pocket knife and I promise you they'll laugh your ass right back out the fucking door. Now cut your god damned losses and lets go home."

That's when it hit me. A new plan. Of course. Why hadn't I thought of it sooner? I'd read about it in a newspaper once. It was perfect. Suddenly I could see light at the end of the tunnel. "You still got that pen?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. "You mean the one John brought? The ballpoint? What the hell do you want with that?"

"Do you have it or not?"

My heart leapt as he removed the pen from his shirt pocket. A moment ago I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Now I was grinning, ear to ear. A moment ago I wanted to kill myself. Now I was happy. Really happy. Dears jumping over hedges happy.

"Why are you smiling?" Adam asked me with a hint of fear. "I don't like that you're smiling. This isn't a good thing. It's a fucking pen. You can't rob a bank with a pen. They know that, you know. Everywhere you look inside a bank, you see a pen. Do you know why? Because nobody in their right fucking mind would try and rob a bank with one. Now quit smiling cause it ain't happening."

"Follow my lead."

"Carlo, come on. You can't be serious."

"All you gotta do is follow my lead. Now come on. And bring your backpack."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret ever meeting you?"

"Trust me."

As we crossed the street I could hear Adam muttering under his breath but I didn't care much. I had a new found confidence and for the first time since I'd woken up, it felt like things were actually going my way. We entered through the glass doors of the Vice City Bank, my nostrils assaulted by the smell of fresh paint. We stood there on a floor of stone white marble, people of all ages walking around us. Rows upon rows of cashier's desks were connected by solid pine. The rest of the room was panelled and furnished tastefully, a leather armchair here and a leather armchair there. At the opposite end of the room I could see the vault and I eyed with it with a deep intensity. My life was about to change forever. We made our way past a number of antique tables watching the white collars speak into their telephones. I watch the security guard and for a brief moment he watches me back. Smiling to myself, I join a queue of about six people.

"This is nuts," Adam says under his breath. "Everyone can see our faces. I don't like this. I really don't like this. Let's just go. Let's get out of here."

"Adam," I said. "You need to calm down. Just take some deep breaths, okay?"

"I'm telling you I can't breathe. I need to go outside. Is that guard looking at us? He looks like he's looking right at me. Can we go? Please?"

"You need to shut up, calm down and follow my lead. Okay? You cool?"

"We should have worn a god damned disguise."

"Yeah well we didn't. But that's a risk that we're going to have to take. Now answer me. Are-you-cool?"

He pauses for a brief moment but then replies, "yeah. Yeah I'm cool."

A few minutes later, we finally got our turn in the queue. The cashier was an unattractive blonde who must have been in her late thirties. She wore her hair up and had on a pair of black rimmed spectacles. I check her name badge. Karen. She seems impatient as he she motions for us to step forward. Her voice was robotic, her tone harsh.

"Hello sirs," she said with an artificial smile. "Welcome to the Vice City Bank. What can I do for you today?" When I didn't reply right away she sighed, saying to me, "can I help you?"

"I sure hope so," I said, perhaps a little too enthusiastic. "You'll have to excuse me. I'm having one of those days. My landlord is breathing down my neck, he really is. From out of nowhere he's saying I'm overdue on some rent. Now I'm sure as hell that he told me it was due on the 14th of every month, but now what he's telling me is that he basically wants it on the 10th of every month. And as todays the 11th, there's a good chance of me getting kicked out. Thing is, I'm all out of cheque's. Have you got any spare?"

"Of course," she says. "I'll be just one moment."

As she begins reaching under the counter, Adam leans in toward me, sweating so bad that I thought he might pass out. "Was the story really necessary?" he asks. "I mean, it was a nice touch and all but couldn't you have just asked her for the cheque?"

I couldn't help but find the situation rather amusing. "You sound nervous?"

"Gee. I can't for the world of me imagine why."

Karen sits upright, the artificial smile returning to her face. "Here you go sir. If you'd like to write it now I can cash it for you."

"Really? That'd be great."

"Would you like a pen?"

I held up John's ballpoint saying, "I got one. Thanks anyway."

I moved to the far edge of the counter, uttering "stupid cunt" under my breath and then making sure that I was out of her line of sight. I thought for a moment about what to write and then, in large capital letters, I wrote on the back of the check:

_OPEN THE REGISTER AND FILL THE BAG WITH MONEY_

_WE HAVE GUNS_

_WE'LL SHOOT YOU IF WE HAVE TO_

I returned to the counter and handed her the cheque, excitement and exhilaration causing my hand to tremble. This was easy. Perhaps too easy. "I think that should keep him off my back a while longer."

Karen looked down at the cheque with a puzzled look. "Erm…sir…you haven't written anything."

"I didn't write it on the back did I? I always do that. I'm such a klutz sometimes."

She turned the cheque over and began to read. It happened in an instant. That artificial smile that she'd worn like a badge of honour was gone. Her eyes were wide. Her lip trembled. She dropped the cheque, staring at me in fear. There was no going back now.

"Don't make a scene," I told her, passing Adam's backpack across the counter towards her. "Just do everything we say and nobody gets hurt, do you understand?"

Her hand shaking, she takes the bag and opens up the register. "Please don't kill me," she says, a tear strolling down her cheek. "Please. I have a little boy."

"Look Karen. You're not going to get hurt. Just keep filling the bag and we'll be out of here before you know it."

She began filling the bag. Twenties. Tens. It was a glorious sight. Truly beautiful. The plan had worked. I was right. This was too easy. There were a few people behind me who had recently joined the queue but neither of them seemed to notice the robbery that was taking place right in front of them.

"This is taking too long," Adam said.

"Would you quit looking around like that," I replied. "I'm serious. Quit it."

"Are you listening to me? I said its taking too long."

Karen handed over the bag, fear still etched across her face. "That's everything I've got."

I smiled. It was over. I'd won. Finally I could have my old life back. I had to grab Adam's arm as he turned around. "Whatever you do," I told him, "don't run."

We'd just began walking when I froze on the spot, my heart sinking, my mood changing. I was staring into the bag and I hated what I saw. "What the fuck is this?" I screamed, turning back to Karen.

"W-what?"

"You heard me the first time. What the fuck is this?" My voice was loud. Too loud. People's heads were turning, riveted toward me. I didn't care. "There can't be more than a thousand dollars in here. What, are you kidding me? I could have robbed more from Burger Shot. Where's the rest of the money Karen?"

Too far. She broke out in hysterics. Tears flooded her cheeks. Her face was in her hands. More heads were turned in our direction. Adam was jumping around like a crazy person, trying to drag me toward the door.

"Nice job mister compassionate," he yelled. "Can we go now?"

"Would you quit calling me that," I said. I turned to Karen, staring her right in the eyes. "You're supposed to be a bank. Where's the money?"

"Is there a problem here," the guard asked, appearing at our side.

"There wasn't until you showed up," I snarled. "Why don't you do yourself a favour and fuck off."

He turns to Karen. "Is everything okay?"

"Jack be careful," she screams. "He's got a gun."

Chaos broke out. First Adam panics, punching the guard to the floor. This is followed by screams, coming from all sides of the bank. And then finally there's an alarm, deafening, flooding my ears. I couldn't think with the noise. Adam was saying something but I couldn't hear him. The next thing I know he's right in my face, shouting, "we gotta go. Right now."

My senses returned. No way. No way was I going through all this for a thousand dollars. I climbed up on the counter, angry, determined. "Everybody get down on the floor. This is a robbery. Get the fuck down." They did as I said. I gotta admit, I wasn't scared anymore. I felt powerful. To see everybody following my every command like that, it made me happy. "If anybody feels like playing a hero," I shouted out to them, "we'll kill you. We're here for the banks money so sit tight and this will all be over real soon." I jumped back down off of the counter, noticing Karen was laying down on the floor. "Not you Karen," I said, pulling her up by her hair. "You're going to fill this bag until it's full. Do you understand me?" No reply. I yank her hair back and she screams. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she sobbed, taking the bag and opening up a register next to hers.

"Watch her real close," I said to Adam.

His mouth wide open, he began shaking his head. "Why? What the fuck are you gonna do? Go to the toilet? We gotta get the fuck out of here. Can you hear that alarm? That means the cops are on their way. That means there could be cops right now waiting for us outside. We gotta go and we gotta go now."

"Just watch her."

I started walking along the rows of people sprawled across the floor. I was searching for a blue suit. I'd clocked the guy the moment we'd entered the bank. This one man meant the difference between walking out of here with a little money or walking out of here rich. Then I spotted him, shaking like a little girl over in the corner. I approached him and he seemed to shake even harder. I grabbed him by the shirt. His jaw vibrated as he spoke.

"I'll do whatever you say, just don't hurt me."

"You the manager?" I asked.

"Y-yes."

"Good. Now get up." He remained motionless. I didn't have time for this. I dragged him to his feet whilst screaming, "I said get the fuck up."

As he did so, his arms remained outstretched in a surrender position. "Please. Just take whatever money there is and leave."

"Open the vault," I told him.

"I-I can't."

I smashed his head into the table, his nose exploding all over the sheets of paper. I lifted the phone receiver, ready to crack his skull open right there and then in front of everybody. "I said open the vault."

"I'm telling you," he cried. "I can't. The only time the vault is opened is at eight in the morning and six in the evening. They don't give us keys."

"If you're fucking lying to me, I swear to god-"

"I-I earn less than twenty thousand a year. Why would I lie?"

He had a good point. I released him, forcing him back down to the ground. "Just stay on the floor and don't move."

I turned around and Adam was staring at me in astonishment. I shrugged and walked back toward him. Karen, still crying uncontrollably, had just handed him the backpack full of money. Adam stared at his watch, almost crying himself.

"Can we go now?"

"Yeah," I said. "Let's get the fuck out of here." Before we left, I took one last glance at Karen and uttered a silent apology. Then we ran for the door, a few ten dollar bills falling from the bag as we both tried to open it at once.

I had to blink a few times to adjust my eyes. I'd forgotten how bright it was outside. But before I could even take another step, I heard a voice screaming the one word no criminal ever wants to hear.

"VCPD! Freeze!"

There were two police cars already at the scene, police officers leant over their doors, guns raised, aiming right at us. Sirens wailed in the distance. People stood in the doorways of nearby stores, watching intensively. I never expected the pigs of Vice City to respond this quickly. I'd always pictured them as donut eating old men who were too proud to retire. But these cops were nothing of the sort. They were angry, heavily built, ready to kill us if we made a wrong move.

"Get down on the ground," one of them shouted. "Now!"

"Oh shit," Adam cried next to me. "We're going to fucking jail. I knew it."

"Down on the ground," the cop repeated. "I won't ask you again."

"Just stay calm," I muttered to Adam. "There's an alley about twenty feet behind us that runs the entire length of the bank. When I say, we run."

"Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm not sure if you've noticed but they've got guns and we'll got is a fucking ballpoint pen."

"We will fire," shouted another officer. "Get down on the ground."

"Okay," I shouted back. "We're going to lay down real slow." I then muttered under my breath, "on three," to Adam.

"Oh Jesus Christ. You are crazy!"

"…two…three!"

We turned and ran. Dozens of angry voices were screaming for us to "freeze" but no way was I going to jail. We darted along the alley and climbed a wall that brought us out into a busy street full of elderly shoppers. Sirens were wailing in all directions. This was madness.

"Get out of the fucking way," I shouted, pushing over anybody that crossed my path. People were shouting after us but we were like caged animals who had just been released. A cop car pulled out right in front of us and I jumped up, running along the bonnet and heading towards the park. Adam was slowing down. "Come on," I yelled. I could hear a helicopter now. How the fuck did the police of Vice City ever get a chopper in the air this quickly? The park was mainly deserted and so we ran across the recently cut grass toward the chain link fence. On the other side of that fence was freedom. A golf club, two miles in diameter. If we made it to the other side, the cops wouldn't stand a chance. That's when Adam collapsed. I'd ran twenty yards before I'd noticed. "What the fuck are you doing? Come on."

"I can't. I'm in agony. My sides…"

I ran back to him and began dragging him to his feet. "I'm not leaving you here. Get on your feet. On your fucking feet."

He pushed me back, shaking his head. "I'm telling you, I can't."

Over at the other end of the park I saw half a dozen cops running towards us, screaming at the tops of their voices. A tear dropped down my cheek. "I can't just leave you here."

"Just go."

"I can't."

He grabbed me by the shirt, pulling me closer and screaming in my face, "I won't tell them your name. Now get out of here."

I took one last look at him, sat there, defenceless, and then I ran. I hopped the chain link fence and entered the golf club. In the space of two hours I'd turned my back on both my brother and my best friend. Like I said, this day wasn't exactly a can of fucking peaches.


End file.
